


a distant memory, a recent ache

by onigirikita



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherhood, Gen, Lots and lots of pain, M/M, Magical Realism, Memory Magic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onigirikita/pseuds/onigirikita
Summary: The only problem here lies in the fact that this wasn’t his memory to begin with. As Kita leaned closer and closer into his face, Atsumu caught the reflection dancing on his sharp golden eyes, and what Kita viewed was his face with grey hair on top.This was Osamu’s memories. And he was watching Kita confess to him from it.In one, cozy evening in Onigiri Miya, the lives of the Miya twins were flipped upside down because of omiscient forces and their magical strength. Their memories were swapped for a specific timeframe, and along with it comes secrets and aches that have long been burried in the past. Secrets that might break their relationship altogether.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 141
Collections: Miya Twins Week 2020





	a distant memory, a recent ache

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a part of **Miya Twins Week 2020** for _Day 1_ , with the prompt **"Memories + ~~Body~~ Swap".**
> 
>  **Trigger Warning** : Mentions of physical injury, near death experience, and unrequited love. Beware that there's just... lots of pain in this fic.
> 
> Thanks to my friends, rai and dos, for patiently listening to me as I wrote this fic :') love u both sm!

Human memories are reconstructive. Osamu knew that much.

That fact alone explained the bouts of lies and false claims that Atsumu constantly spewed. False memories can do that to you. Misleadingly so, yet proudly stated with words. Like the countless times that Atsumu said that he was the older twin when Osamu clearly remembered the day that their mother had said otherwise. Its inherent reconstructive tendency was what made the human memory a fragile thing, to some extent.

But, despite its weaknesses, some memories can stand out more among the others. It naturally bound the rich details and the overwhelming feelings in a single, bright memory. Reserved only for rare occasions that came with a surge of emotions, yet retold with a voice that held a tingle of fondness. Like their fight about who will be the happiest among them both, the anger swirling inside of Osamu helping to burn the image of his brother’s wicked grin in his mind. Yet when they both joke about the incident, the smiles tugging on their lips were filled with a sense of tenderness. Osamu knew this much, too.

Yet, in his 26 years of living, Osamu never knew that memories can be switched. 

*

Being observant was a skill that Atsumu was good at even before he was decent at volleyball. Atsumu knew that much.

It comes with his position as an older brother, he would often say. Osamu would gladly contradict this by saying that it had nothing to do with his birth order– he was simply nosy from the day that he was born, is all. Atsumu knew better, though. His clear memories from their younger days can boldly prove his younger brother wrong.

He was always the first one who would notice whenever Osamu had strayed from their family to follow the sweet waft of delicious food, whenever he had good or bad days, and whenever there was love twinkling in his gray eyes, even when Osamu himself hadn’t realized the presence of the said emotion in his heart.

That was why he noticed that something was off with Kiyoomi today. It started after their lunch break, Atsumu pinpointed. His spikes were still as mean, and so were the jabs for his own lover, but Atsumu knew that he was in a daze. It was in the far-off look in his eyes, the unsettling silence that they share as the last occupants of the locker room, and the unnecessary movements of his cleaning routine, as if he was stalling their departure.

Kiyoomi was never one to dilly-dally. Atsumu knew this much.

But he wasn’t one to do so either, so he bluntly asked his lover about it. “What’s gotten into ya today, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asked. There was no press in his voice, just well-meaning curiosity to understand Kiyoomi better. His lover’s eyes were locked towards the purplish sky above them, while Atsumu observed the contemplation churning in his onyx irises.

His curly bangs moved along the wisp of wind that blew past. His eyes didn’t lose any hint of its seriousness as the seconds ticked by, taking in the transition of colors in the sky. His mouth was covered with a surgical mask, but Atsumu can picture the image of his lips pressed into a straight line just fine. Atsumu ended his observation with a simple conclusion: Kiyoomi was beautiful, like always.

Kiyoomi finally turned to face Atsumu when the purple in the sky had fully disappeared. The features of his face were sharp as ever against the glaring light from the gym lobby. “I’m afraid that I can’t come with you to meet your brother. Sorry for not telling you straight away.” He spoke, regret evident in his soft voice.

Atsumu unknowingly released the breath that he was holding. For a moment, he thought that something crucial was troubling his lover. “Geez, ya scared me there, Omi! I thought yer gonna break up with me or something,” Atsumu whined, “But that’s okay. I would’ve ditched ‘Samu too if I had the chance. He’ll kick me if I don’t come, though. So I’m afraid I won’t be able to go home with ya.”

“I’m not going to go home,” Kiyoomi instantly replied, “Motoya messaged me around lunch, saying that he’s here in Osaka and wanted to meet me tonight. He said that it was urgent– I doubt that it hardly is, but he seemed serious for once, so I agreed to meet him straight after practice. Sorry for not telling you about this, too, Atsumu.”

Atsumu smiled, unabashedly showing a mix of exasperation and fondness towards his lover. He wanted to poke fun at Kiyoomi for agonizing over a decision that could be easily made, but he decided against it– Kiyoomi was analytical when Atsumu was observant, and he must’ve taken account of his feelings upon prioritizing his cousin for tonight. For that, Atsumu loved Kiyoomi even more.

“Ya don’t need to apologize, Omi,” Atsumu earnestly said, “We better get to the train station. Don’t want to keep Komori waiting.” The genuineness in his words was received, judging by the way that Kiyoomi’s shoulder instantly relaxed. His lover gently clasped their hands together before they began their walk, and they shared a kiss through his mask before separating towards their respective platforms.

Atsumu lingered from afar, observing the mop of black curls until they truly disappeared along the hallways. Once more, Atsumu concluded: he loved Sakusa Kiyoomi. Oh, so very much.

*

The tranquility that had settled inside of Onigiri Miya tonight was rare. 

The newly-established restaurant usually opened until late, welcoming the waves of businessmen and women alike to soothe their souls. Most of them came purely for the food. But some of them came to enjoy the company of their colleagues with a beer in their hands. Osamu would gladly indulge them all until the last of his customers filtered out, hence why the restaurant was rarely ever quiet.

But for tonight, Osamu had purposely closed his restaurant early. Simply to preserve privacy for himself and his two guests.

What came barging through the sliding door of his restaurant was just one pair of footsteps. He could easily recognize who they belonged to. 

“Sakusa-kun ain’t coming?” Osamu asked, not even bothering to look up, too focused on wiping down the counter. There was no need for him to double-check if the person was Atsumu, anyway. The little noises that he made as he settled down was a dead giveaway of his identity.

The sharp creak of a chair being pulled away. The loud thud of his body crashing on it. The smack of his gym back carelessly dropped onto the tiled floors. The huff of exertion tying all of those noises together before he spoke. Osamu had cataloged all of the noises that his brother would make in his heart, noting how they always brought his deadly silent restaurant back to life.

“Yeah. Said somethin’ about meetin’ his cousin,” Atsumu explained, “It was a last-minute call, though, and whatever was Komori’s reason to come here seemed serious, so Kiyoomi really had to meet him. He said he’s sorry for not telling ya any sooner.”

“I see. ‘Thought ya finally scared him away or somethin’,” The whine that he got from Atsumu was familiar, and this tell-tale sign of banter was natural for Osamu,

“Wouldn’t blame him if he does get scared, though. Yer a terrifyingly dirty partner to have, what with his hygiene standards and all.” 

“I’m not _that_ unsanitary, ya asshole!” Atsumu cried, petulantly glaring daggers from where he was sat, “The fuck do ya want with me, huh? I came all the way here, as ya _demanded_ me to, and the first thing that I get from ya is an insult?” 

Osamu snorted. The sound seemed to rile Atsumu even more. “Am I wrong, though?” He asked, challenge dripping from the edge of his voice, “Ya just got off from the train, and yer about to eat rice with yer bare hands, yet ya don’t even have it in mind to wash yer hands first when ya came in? Sakusa-kun woulda’ been very, _very_ disappointed in ya if he knew, ‘Tsumu.” He knew that he won from the moment that Atsumu let out a groan, loud and announcing defeat, before he dragged himself to the washroom. The sounds in his shop ceased, only leaving his own chuckles and the sound of water running in the distance to resonate along the walls.

The rag was set away, the counter now free from any rice crumbs and spilled drinks. Osamu moved along it with a precision that can only be explained by muscle memory, hips swaying along to avoid bumping against bags of rice or heavy kitchen utensils that were placed on the floor. He stopped in front of the clear display counter, where a plate that held two freshly-made onigiris sat. The reflection of himself stared back from the acrylic surface, and whenever it did, Osamu always nostalgically felt like he was young again.

Perhaps it was due to the natural hair color that he now sported, reminiscent of his youth. Perhaps it was due to his tendency to remember the past, always the nostalgic one among them both. 

He always remembered the itch of spiking a perfect set and the euphoria that came with it, the specific ingredients to each and every flavor of the onigiris that he made, and that Atsumu preferred the tuna-flavored onigiris, while Sakusa solely stuck with the umeboshi ones. He always remembered the orders of those two and his other regulars by heart, too.

It had always been like that, even from when they were just kids. Osamu has always been the one who remembered, while Atsumu observed. 

“Quit starin’ at yerself. Ya ain’t handsome at all, dipshit,” The chair screeched as it was pulled back, and his reflection on the acrylic surface was joined with Atsumu’s. All that Osamu spared him was an eye-roll.

Osamu slid the glass door of the display open, taking the plate out to set them in front of his twin. As he slid them back to close, his eyes caught sight of his reflection again. Something about it was out of place, Osamu immediately noticed: his reflection was smiling back at _him_ , when he was _sure_ that his lips were currently pressed into a thin, straight line. That fact alone had caused his heartbeat to stop.

He blinked. Once. Twice. His reflection was _still_ smiling back at him. He was starting to think that the hours of late-night work might’ve pushed him to the brink of insanity.

“Oi, ‘Samu, what’s gotten into ya?” Atsumu drawled. The intense stare-off between him and his reflection was promptly broken. “Just gimme my food. It’s gettin’ colder by the second.” Osamu finally relented, carefully passing the plate to his brother’s waiting hands. But his eyes lingered onto the acrylic surface, where his reflection mirrored his every move. They looked like how Osamu thought it was supposed to look now: his face scrunched into a frown, showing the hint of wary gleaming in his grey eyes.

Osamu swept his cautiousness under the rug, blaming his fatigue for the anomaly that he saw. He took a stool to sit on, placing it right in front of Atsumu, with only the counter separating them both. Atsumu’s eyes were trained onto him instead of the onigiris that he asked for.

“Somethin’s botherin ya.” Atsumu merely stated. _That damn observer_ , he cursed. Osamu wanted nothing more but to punch himself for letting concern seep into his face, especially because his worries were unwarranted– they purely started because he thought he was seeing things, after all.

He was sure that Atsumu would laugh at him if he told the truth, yet his brother’s attention was still centered on him. His golden eyes openly waiting for him to explain, not a hint of judgment on sight. Osamu picked his mental broom to brush the image of his creepy reflection under his consciousness again, making sure that he controlled his facial expression in the process.

“Nothing,” Osamu muttered, and for a moment, he knew Atsumu didn’t buy his excuse, “Ya better start eating and reviewing those onigiris. The one on the left is the extra spicy tuna mayo. The other one is extra sour umeboshi.” At the mention of the food that awaited him, Atsumu finally dropped the conversation, but not before he squinted at Osamu, as if to say _this is not over yet_. Osamu knew better than to rest easy, since Atsumu would chase him to the ends of the world just to know what had bothered him. A noisy bastard, indeed.

Atsumu gingerly picked his first onigiri with all ten of his fingers, taking a big bite on top of the triangle. They fall into the rhythm of pleased hums, barely-audible-yet-still-understandable onigiri reviews, and appreciative nods. Osamu’s restaurant was no longer quiet with the presence of his twin, and he forgets the eerie reflection that smiled at him.

*

“‘Say, ‘Samu. Don’tcha ever plan to renovate this branch?” Atsumu suddenly asked, “I mean, all of the other branches in Kansai looked brand new, ‘cept for this one.” 

A full stomach meant a happy heart and a sharper mind for Atsumu. With his heart in a content state, he lets his eyes roam around the kitchen area behind the counter, taking in the poor state of the shelves and cabinets there. The wooden surface of the shelves looked old, ready to break any second under the large cooking pans that they held. Most of its hinges were rusty, creating an annoying creak whenever the cabinets were opened or something was placed on top.

Don’t even get him started with the cracked floor tiles.

If Atsumu remembered correctly, his twin had bought this place at a cheap price, with all of the aged furniture included in it. This place had also been the first branch that Osamu opened, so his interest in the inexpensive cost was justified.

But now, seeing Osamu wash the dishes under a dangerously imbalanced shelf that was weighed down with aluminum pots and pans, Atsumu can’t help but think that his twin should’ve gone for the pricey place that had new furniture instead.

“Mhm, I’m thinkin’ on it,” Osamu replied, his voice raised louder to win against the constant rush of water from the sink, “But I have other priorities set, like buyin’ a place for the Miyagi branch. Renovating this branch just ain’t my top priority now.” With his back against the counter as he washed the dishes, he didn’t catch the look of distaste on Atsumu’s face.

“But look at that shelf above yer head, ‘Samu! It looks like it’s about to give out any second!” Atsumu pressed on, “Yer even crazier to keep all of those massive utensils on an unsteady shelf. I honestly pity the person who will get crushed by all of ‘em one day.”

“It won’t,” Osamu simply reassured him, like he had faith that even that shelf can carry all of his worries (Atsumu knew they were a lot– his twin was always thinking on the clock to improve his business, after all), “Trust me. It might look old to you, but they’re actually sturdy.” Hearing his response, Atsumu sank lower into his chair, completely unimpressed by his twin’s stubbornness. Osamu has yet to spare him a glance, which usually meant that his decision wasn’t up for debate. With that, Atsumu lets out a huff, making sure to make it loud so that they’d reach his twin’s ears.

Atsumu’s eyes were still focused on the shelf that hovered above Osamu’s head, even though the conversation was already dropped. The lights bounced against the aluminum pots, but Atsumu can still see a bird’s-eye view of himself and the rest of the restaurant reflecting on them. The largest pot that Osamu owned gave the clearest view of the reflection. His blond hair and the red hoodie that he currently wore were visible enough from where he sat. The tiny reflection of himself mirrored him perfectly, with his slouched sitting position and one arm slung over the back of his seat.

Well, that was until it didn’t. The change was very subtle, but it caused Atsumu’s breath to hitch when he caught sight of it: one of the reflection's arm, imitated to slung over his seat, was slowly raised. It moved from left to right, as if it was _waving_ at him. The color drained from Atsumu’s face when his brain fully comprehended that his reflection was, indeed, moving.

“Did you say something?” Osamu asked, finally turning his head towards his twin. The startled look on his twin’s face goes unexplained, as Atsumu frantically glanced back and forth from his actual hand, which was still slung over his seat, to his reflection’s arm, which was still waving at him.

“I, uh–,” Atsumu stopped himself. This was too complex for his post-practice, fully-sated self to understand. No scientific law on Earth said that reflections can move on its own. Yet his teeny, tiny one was proving otherwise, and Osamu was still waiting for him to explain. 

Atsumu remembered the many times that Kiyoomi had called him crazy, albeit his insults were said more out of exasperation, hence lacking any bite in them. Had he finally turned crazy now? 

“It’s nothing,” He finally concluded, although the panic in his heart never ceased, “I suddenly feel sick, is all.” A blatant lie. Atsumu never had any stomach problems whenever he ate Osamu’s food. He was sure that he doesn’t even look the slightest bit convincing when he said so.

Yet Osamu foolishly believed him, anyway. “Huh, I guess the tuna one was too spicy?” Osamu muttered to himself, completely disregarding Atsumu to continue washing his dishes all the while thinking over his new recipe. Atsumu wasn’t sure if he wanted to snap at his brother or himself, because his reflection was very obviously still moving their arm, and none of them was getting closer to identifying this mysterious problem. He honestly felt like he was losing it.

The movement suddenly changed, though. It was no longer waving at him, the small hand now moving like it was pointing down towards the floor. Atsumu’s eyes glanced there, yet nothing happened to the tiled floor that he was on. When his gaze returned to his reflection, Atsumu directly followed from where the hand was pointing at, going down until it landed onto Osamu’s back.

Wait, Osamu?  


The aged shelf held heavy cooking pots and pans. His reflection on the biggest aluminum pot moved by itself. Osamu was standing right under the said shelf.

Atsumu’s heart lurched from its cage. 

“‘Samu!” Atsumu cried out, upon realizing what his reflection was pointing at. Around the same time, the pile of pots there moved by itself, a series of bangs heard as steel collided against steel. The crumbling pile was enough to make the shelf crack, and like a domino, Osamu stood frozen as he eyed the breaking wood, waiting for the piece before him to knock him down.

With instincts driving his body, Atsumu leaped over the counter to push Osamu out of the way. He would have loved this feeling of bravery suddenly coursing from his heart, if not for the fact that he miscalculated his step and their distance quite badly. Turns out, Osamu was standing way closer than he expected. He’d jumped harder than he thought, too. 

Inevitably, Atsumu became the domino that knocked Osamu down. His head bumped against Osamu’s, and his weight pushed his twin’s back against the sink before they both collapsed onto the floor. While they swore through their pain, the last domino fell into place: the shelf broke right in the middle, and the pots and pans fell onto them both. The largest cooking pot fell directly on top of their heads, causing a loud _bang_ to resonate through the restaurant.

Everything was, expectedly, a mess.

Both of their heads hurt. Their visions swirled, creating a blurry sight marked with black dots around the edges. A sharp, ringing noise was heard from their ears. All that they could do was lay limp on the floor, trying their best to endure the tremendous pain through slipped groans and curses.

“The fuck ‘didja do that for?!” Osamu protested, roughly tossing his cap away to feel through his head. An obvious lump was growing near his forehead, and he wasn’t delighted to know about what that entails. “Ya could’ve warned me if the shelf was going to break! I would’ve been able to walk away without getting injured. But you just gotta be a hero and injure us both, huh?” 

Atsumu was startled from his pain when he heard Osamu snap. His mouth gaped open as he tried to answer, and the image of the strange reflection popped into mind. Would Osamu even believe his ridiculous reasoning? Probably not, but his pride was on the line after the horrific fall, and he needed to defend his dignity at all costs, so he spits them out anyway. “But there’s this weird ref–”

His words faltered when a bright light flashed into his eyes, blinding his vision. Atsumu’s reaction was to yelp in surprise, and judging from the similar scream that came from Osamu’s side, his brother must’ve witnessed the same thing. The illumination grew stronger, and with it, came flashes of memories. His eyes felt like they were burning, and his heart was heavy with dread.

Is this what it felt like, to have your life flash before your eyes? Atsumu questioned. Was he– no, were they _both_ about to die?

The flicker of memories abruptly stopped, and Atsumu found himself standing at the gym of his high school. Atsumu’s heart lurched in a panic at the abrupt change in scenery, because the shop and Osamu were nowhere in sight, and he felt like he was stepping closer and closer to death with how surreal all of this was. Time travel hasn’t been proved successful by science, yet here he was: feeling like he shrunk to his teenage body and clad in his high school uniform, in a place that he last stepped foot into many years ago.

Judging from the golden hue that immersed the area, the sun was most likely setting outside, and practice must’ve already finished long ago. But there was only him in this gym, with no one on sight, so–

“Osamu, ya called for me?” A voice suddenly asked, pushing Atsumu further into the panic that he was already in. The protest ready to fly out of Atsumu’s mouth faltered when he turned around, a small gasp tearing its way instead when he saw who called out for his twin.

His face was more youthful in this memory, with no signs of stress marking itself on his beautiful face. The grey hair with its signature black tips were slightly longer than how he kept them now, bangs cut shorter due to ease. A sense of austerity still lingered around him as he quietly stood there, waiting for Atsumu to talk. But he was patient, like always; eyes gently waiting for him to talk, never urging him to do so even as time slips past his fingers. Kita Shinsuke was as lovely as Atsumu remembered him to be, and he found himself being pulled to the gravity of his charm.

But angelic as he was, the man was still capable of bringing a faint pang into Atsumu’s heart. The ache was not as strong as they were all those years ago, because he has made peace with the fact that he will never be able to share his life with Kita, like how he dreamed of in the past. Not when Kita had always loved Osamu, anyway. And certainly not when Kita made Osamu be the happiest twin between them both.

So he let his chances with Shinsuke wither along with the cherry blossom petals in April, saying goodbye to a high school romance that was never meant to be something more.

“Yeah, I did,” Atsumu found himself talking automatically, but his voice sounded deeper than he remembered them to be, “I know this is sudden, Kita-san, but– I like ya. Have been for a while. Thought that since yer graduatin’ soon, I’ll just tell ya now before I regret it later.” 

Those were the exact words that Atsumu wanted to convey back then, yet the confession that slipped from his lips didn’t feel like they belonged to him.

Atsumu’s heart stopped beating at that very realization. He watched as Kita’s eyes were filled with awe, his thin lips pulled into the tenderest smile that Atsumu has ever seen on him. _Love_. That was what brimmed in his golden eyes, what pulled his lips into that breathtaking smile that Atsumu longed to see in the past. A part of him thought that he looked ethereal this way, so open and sincere, and Atsumu wanted nothing more than to burn this scene into the depths of his memory.

The only problem here lies in the fact that this wasn’t _his_ memory, to begin with. As Kita leaned closer and closer into his face, Atsumu caught the reflection dancing on his sharp golden eyes, and what Kita viewed was his face with _grey_ hair on top.

This was Osamu’s memories. And he was watching Kita confess to _him_.

And that love reflected in his eyes wasn't directed for him, too. But for _Osamu_.

“I like you too, Osamu,” Kita whispered, the love in his heart carried through his sweet voice, “Guess we both wasted too much of our time, huh?” Carefully, his senior clasped Osamu’s hands with his and brought them up, landing a small kiss onto his rough knuckles whilst maintaining eye-contact with him.

Atsumu knew he wasn’t supposed to get affected by this. Not even by a little. His heart belonged to Kiyoomi now, and if he made it out of this situation, he would be waiting to scoop Atsumu into his arms when he arrived back home. The high school crush that he had with Kita did leave a bittersweet taste, but it was an ache that he had gotten used to all these years later. And he will not succumb to the intensity of this situation, because it wasn’t real, and this wasn’t him.

But why did his heart feel like it was breaking all over again, like how he felt back when he’d secretly witnessed their confession from the sideline? Why did he felt like he was reduced back to his high school self, who was cursing the world for how unfair it was to him, yet silently accepting his fate to not ruin his brother’s happiness?

Although Atsumu felt Osamu’s lips curl into a smile, the pang in his own heart was suffocating.

*

Terror was clouding his mind and heart when the flashes of memories suddenly stopped, showcasing Inarizaki’s gym in front of his eyes. The court was empty, save for the two figures standing at the center of them, while Osamu himself hid behind a door. He had to do a double-take when he saw those figures: because if he’s standing near the door, why was his high school self standing there? You can’t be in two places at the same time, right?

And why was Kita there along with him?

He managed to put two and two together, and if he remembered correctly, this was the moment where he’d confessed to Kita.

Osamu’s eyes glanced around the gym as he waited for them to talk. His eyes accidentally swept past his hands, which were idly hanging from his sides, and he stopped the movements in his eyes when he noticed the stark difference of his hands compared to how he recalled them in his memory.

The skin of his palm was smooth with his nails trimmed short. No scars were marring the silky skin when Osamu remembered that he endured countless kitchen accidents ever since he was 17. Marks from sizzling oil or a knife wound should be faintly there, but they weren’t.

This fact led Osamu to a single conclusion: he was watching _Atsumu’s_ memory. A searing pain twisted rapidly into his heart around the same time when the confession between his high school self and Kita was shared under the softest whispers. It left Osamu gasping in agony, gripping onto the steel doors for support, because the ache that rippled through the rest of his body was one that he never felt before. 

His head was forcefully pulled up to face the scene now, yet his vision was somehow blurred. Osamu didn’t even realize that he was crying until his eyesight was cleared, at the cost of a pair of teardrops trickling from his cheeks. The two figures in front of him were suddenly growing smaller, and Osamu noticed that his distance between them was widening. Atsumu, apparently, was taking small steps back from the gym door, until he could successfully escape from their presence unnoticed.

The tears never stopped streaming, and the pain followed him everywhere. What Osamu could do was let this agony consume him as a whole, even when he doesn’t know the reason for this wave of sadness. He lets his head run free with questions, too, wondering about why Atsumu was there in the first place. And most importantly, why was he feeling this heavy sadness inside of him?

*

Both of them snapped back to reality in a start, gasping for air like fish out of water. Osamu was gripping onto his chest, trying his best to control the unimaginable pain that it was under. This was the same, heart-wrenching pain that he felt earlier in the memory. The corner of his eyes stung, and his breaths were short and ragged. Soon, he found himself silently crying, hot tears gliding from his cheeks. 

Yet, Osamu still had no clue about where this agony came from. But one thing that he was sure was that it felt so _real_ , clawing into Osamu’s heart to make him feel years of ache with his every sob.

He understood that he had just watched Atsumu’s memories. But why was Atsumu there in the gym as well? Why was he under so much pain?

“Atsumu,” Osamu called out, weakly pulling his hand up to wipe the tears, his eyes blurring and refocusing on Atsumu’s limp body on the floor, “Atsumu, what the heck was that?” He asked, voice wet from the tears.

His twin finally turned his face towards him, and Osamu’s heart seemed to break for the second time tonight from seeing the wrecked look on Atsumu’s face. Never had he seen his twin look so crushed like _this_ before– he had endured an injury in the past that almost ended his volleyball career, yet Atsumu never looked completely like this. Openly showing that he was hurt and felt lost. He was crying, too, but something about the pain that riddled his face and the way he bit into his lips signified that his twin was in a much, much greater anguish than he was.

Suddenly, Osamu recalled that the searing pain that he felt came right when he witnessed his confession unravel. That this pang in his heart, the hitch of his breath, and the tears slipped free right after that very moment. He was watching that scene in Atsumu’s body and feeling the emotions that he felt, and like finding a missing piece to an uncompleted puzzle, the picture was finally clear for Osamu to see:

“You loved Shinsuke.” The words felt heavy against his tongue, and the realization that dawned into him brought a whole new pain into his heart. 

Because they both happened to love the same guy, and Osamu had just known about this fact. Somehow, Osamu already knew about why Atsumu was there at the gym even before his twin had said anything.

Atsumu stayed silent for a few moments, although the distinctive fear taking over his honey eyes were evident. He took in the look of disbelief that never wavered in Osamu’s face, and with a heavy heart, he realized that maybe his twin’s perception of him might’ve already changed now. The ache in his heart seemed to grow bigger, because this was not what Atsumu wanted at all. He never wished for Osamu to _ever_ know because that was a secret long kept in the past.

Carefully, Atsumu pulled his sluggish body up to sit. He inhaled a shaky breath, a few more drops of tears slipping through his eyes, and he exhaled the fear in his heart out to the open, “Back then, yes. But now I don’t. I love Omi-kun, and that’s a fact.” There was a certainty when he did mention Kiyoomi’s name, yet the pain was still there, obviously taking hold of Atsumu’s heart.

The squeeze in Osamu’s heart turned just a little tighter because of that. “And why were you there, at the gym?” Osamu asked, even if he already knew why. Atsumu’s gaze immediately lowered to the floor, unable to meet the demanding look from his twin.

“I was there to confess to him, too,” Atsumu admitted, breath hitching as he remembered the memory again, “But ya beat me to it, and I’ve kind of always known that ya like him as well. So, I, uh– I gave up on him. Ya looked so happy with him back then, so I didn’t want to ruin that for ya. I want ya to be happy, too, ‘Samu.” The admission made his heart feel slightly lighter, like the weight that it carried had disappeared. With the last bit of his energy, Atsumu flashed a small genuine smile to further say that he _meant_ his every word. It made Osamu reel back further in shock.

His confession helped to explain everything. About why Atsumu always declined Osamu’s offer to go to Kita’s farm, why he never swung by his shop whenever Kita came, and why he always felt like there was a small gap between his twin and his lover that never made sense before. But now, it does, yet Osamu wasn’t sure that he could accept them fully.

Because accepting them fully also meant that Atsumu gave up a piece of his happiness for him, that he spent years mending his broken heart and moving on. And that was because of Osamu himself.

“Ya know ya didn’t have to, asshole,” Osamu croaked, carefully getting up on his feet with shaky legs, “I would’ve been fine if ya were the one who dated Shinsuke, anyway. Ya could’ve been with Shinsuke, and I bet he would’ve made you happy, too.” He lured one hand out for Atsumu to take, and his eyes widened in shock to see that Osamu was still lending him help– that he’s not disgusted or disappointed at him. With a small smile, he took Osamu’s hand to help hoist him up. 

They were now standing right in front of each other, and the smile on Atsumu’s face was still there. Osamu wanted nothing more than to be angry with Atsumu for sacrificing this huge chance that he had for him. But deep down, he knew anger was useless now– because in the end, what’s done is done, and he somehow got to Kita first. Somehow, from the look in his eyes, he knew Atsumu was thinking of the same thing too.

“I wanted ya to be happy, and I know that Kita-san can make ya so. Even though that meant that ya won our stupid challenge in that period,” An admittance of Atsumu’s thoughts were rare, so Osamu held patiently listened to his twin, even though the shyness in his eyes were begging to be teased, “But most importantly, ‘Samu, I don’t want to steal yer happiness just because we happen to love the same guy. And I ain’t throwing away our brotherhood just because of that. So don’t be mad at me for keeping this a secret, okay?” The plea in his voice held a tingle of desperation in them, and Osamu found himself relenting to his brother easily.

Because no matter what, Osamu can never really be mad at Atsumu, too.

“Yeah, alright,” Osamu sighed, finally letting out the tension in his body through his breath. His twin immediately perked up at the lazy smile that was now curling on his lips, “But I am mad at how ya knocked into my head, asshole. Ya have a shitty aim for a setter.”

“I was panicking, ‘Samu! I tried saving yer life, and this is what you say to me?”

“Yeah? Ya call that shitty attempt yer way of saving a life?”

Because no matter what, they were brothers until the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this far, and I hope you like it! Kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> Come talk to me on **Twitter** : @onigirikita


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